In the Absence of Sound it is You That I Hear
by CandycaneMiscreant
Summary: Only one person could close their eyes, and see the white as he had. Only one other person woke up, choking back his sobs from the terrors they shared. And on the lucky days, knowing that would feel like comfort to Ben.


"Do you believe in fate?"

The 8bit beeping of one of the older Sumo Slammer hand held games was interrupted by Rook's voice. It had been a quiet couple of hours, Ben and Rook sitting in structureless silence with the rhythmic hum of the ship and beeping of digital tunes acting as dialogue for the two. Ben, who had been fully satiated with playing his game and not talking, looked to Rook. His partners eyes were closed and head pressed against the wall behind him. Rook's lips were pulled taut in the same thin lipped frown only seen after caving to Ben's late night chili-fry cravings. Ben gave his attention back to his game.

"Why do you ask?" Ben says. His fingers struggle responding to the game as he needs to. The hum of the ship is quiet as they sit under the dim lighting, Kevin taking care of an engine malfunction they had had earlier that day. Gwen was _probably_ monitoring the systems up front to let Kevin know if anything technobabbly was happening. The low hum that came from Rook's mouth made Ben _very_ aware of how their arms were pressed together. His character slips, falls to their death, and loses a life. He scowls.

"I am just thinking," Rook says, and his body shifts, eyelids lifting open to stare at the roof, "The things that we have seen. It is hard to believe that there is not some outside force guiding us through it."

Ben wants to think about all the incredible things that they've experienced while traveling. He tries to focus on the magnificence of space, the wonders of the worlds they've seen, how it all drummed in his chest like the mundane no matter how he struggled to make it feel new and fresh. His mind wanders, images of white exploding into infinite stars, seeing worlds being made from nothing more than a box. A universe is being _born_, and he is seeing it all happen. Rook is next to him, seeing everything Ben has, his arm pressed against him as they watch. The same pressure he felt now. Ben's ears burn and his brain stalls. A blade cuts his character down, and another life is lost. He groans, wishing he had actually saved when he had the chance.

"Look, I've never let _anyone_ tell me how I'm gonna live my life, and I'm not about to start now." Ben speaks, fingers stiff on the buttons as his focus is given wholly to the screen.

The couch moans under the shifting of weight, but Ben does not register what is happening until he feels the hand on his waist, erupting his nerves with a sensation like burning. Fingers run through his hair and it takes him a moment to recognize that it is Rook's fingers, his partners eyes staring into his own. They are orange, Ben thinks, and it is the only thing is brain can register before feeling the jumbling rush of white noise inside his guts. His breathing hitches as suddenly. _Suddenly. _He can feel the weight of Rook moving his legs over Ben's lap. If it didn't mean that Ben would have to accept the current situation happening currently then he might have described it as being straddled. However Ben did _not_ accept the current situation currently, and would have rather focused on how hard it was currently to swallow.

Exploding images of white enter his mind. The same image of a universe is being born, playing under his organs and in the marrow of his bones. Rook is there, and his eyes are orange, and lost, and expectant. Ben's hands clench on the game in his hand, noises beeping, the ship humming. It comes, all at once, like it often did these nights when he woke biting his tongue and choking back a scream. When he saw the way Rook would count each his body marks in the middle of the night, as though one might be missing. There was no one else in this existence who could have seen what they had seen. There was no one else in their entire lives that could have understood. They saw the creation of _everything. _They had _stopped_ the destruction of everyone. Ben remembers he had almost died, managing a dry swallow.

Ben remembers Rook had _watched_ him almost die.

Rooks hand brushes a spot of skin on Ben's waist, sliding only a hint under his shirt, and he can't. He can't _see_ or remember anything beyond those eyes, like stars being born, a universe building itself in front of him. He blinks, and sees white. Then orange. Rook's face is contorted with a pain that Ben wished he did not understand. The pressure of his arms against Ben's helps with the difficult task of breathing. Ben lets out a shuddering breath. His hand reaches up—tentative—fingers brushing the fur of Rooks cheek. Rooks head leans in to the touch, and Ben can feel the muscles move and contract as Rook crushes his eyes shut, mouth clenched. He was the only person that he had who knew what it felt like. To see those explosions of white, to see the universe, born again and again, every time he shut his eyes. A constant loop. An inescapable repetition of life.

His hand runs to Rooks neck, and he closes closes his eyes. Ben pulls Rook in. Their foreheads touch, and there is a long silence. There are the rhythmic hums of the ship, the 8bit melody of the game. It is their dialogue. They breath, out of sync, but slowly, fall into the same rhythm. He sees an explosion of white and the universe is born. Rook is next him. Over and over again, he is next to him. A constant loop with his eyes orange, his arms pressed against Ben's. A constant pressure reminding Ben of the only person who could share in this. The only person who would ever exist, in every loop of time, to be the only person who knew what it felt like. To see the white beneath his eyes.

It felt like fate. It felt like that, in every ache in every joint of his body. He believed so deeply that there must have been something that kept it all going, that kept them together, with the pressure filling his chest and twisting up his stomach. The fact that this all happened, again and again, without break or fail. It felt like fate to have only one person who could ever understand right there, always there to share this feeling, until he would not be. Because if this was fate, in the way that it felt like it was, then there was the veritable fact that Rook would leave. He would always leave. Again, and again, in a constant loop that they are helpless to change or prevent. Ben's grip tightens, eyes clinching so tight it makes him queasy. Rook would leave. The white staggers.

Ben wants to say something, but he can't imagine what. There is a nagging fear that anything he says now, could irrevocably change it all, change everything about him, and them. His fingers ache to move, and it burns, the distance between them. It is a chance to change things. He does not know if he is ready for that change. He does not know that it would change anything at all. Ben does not have the time to find out, because the door to the small, cramped, room with a couch and a kitchen, slides open in a sudden flood of light.

Both Ben and Rook flinch, bodies twisting to see who had entered. Kevin stood under the door frame with a series tools hitched to his belt, eyes wide and expression unsettled. The game's cartoonish background tune plays along as all three take their time, staying still, not saying anything.

"I just needed Rook's help with some of the tech on the warp drive, but uh, if you two are _busy_ then I can just—" Kevin says, making motions to leave the way he had come.

"No!" Both Ben and Rook shout, Ben's voice notable in how it cracked. It took a moment for his brain to catch up with his body, as he realized the way his hand rested on Rook's neck. He snapped it away, cheeks flooding with blood. Rook was still half-straddling him, the weight of his shoulder stabbing into Ben as he was too petrified by Kevin's sudden appearance to even notice. The pressure hurt, but Ben made no effort to move him.

"I am not—we, were just," Rook stammered, only then coming to notice how he still was piled on top of Ben. Ben hadn't even noticed that Rook's fingers had been interlocked with his free hand, and only became aware of it as Rook snapped to his feet, and Ben could feel the sudden absence of warmth. The compiling list of things to use for blackmail shone bright in Kevin's eyes. Ben cursed the lack of some sort of locking system on this ship—not that he would have expected for this exact situation to happen exactly the way it had.

"Hey, it's okay, you guys don't have to explain it to me." Kevin leaned on the door frame, hands held up in a peaceful gesture, though the grin on his face was there to incite a war, "I totally get it. We're locked up here in space, no girls around 'cept Gwen. Makes sense the two of you got lonely, started looking for a little action where you can get it."

The loud croaking sound that came from Ben's mouth at the comment was both sudden and involuntary. His head felt icicles, prodding at the back of his skull, inflaming his cheeks and burning his ears. He could see Rook's fur bristle and body go stiff. Kevin let out a loud laugh. Rook's head sunk into his shoulders.

"Please be silent." He grumbled, pushing past Kevin as he walked, turning to the engine room. Kevin's eyes followed Rook, his last few cackles quieting in a large grin. He gave Ben another look, a thumbs up, and a wink, to which Ben rewarded a swift toss of a pillow at his face. Kevin broke out into another fit of laughter, stumbling after where Rook had sauntered off, spurred on by dodging the shoe Ben threw at his head.

It was a long moment of silence before Ben felt the weird sloshing in his gut calm down enough the hear the jingle of his game. He rested his head on the wall behind him. His eyes held on the open door, and through it the vastness of space shone from a window across the way. Infinite and grand. The stars filling the black spaces with dots of light, secluded to their own world. There was the hum of the ship, low and even, running through the currents of the wall. Ben could feel it vibrate against his skull, running through his mind. The dimly lit space seemed so sequestered then, as he let the soft vibrations overwhelm his thoughts.

Beside him, his game lay, playing its loop of 8bit music. He had forgotten about it and now it was flashing the Game Over screen. Ben gave a frustrated groan, really wishing that he had saved when he had the chance. He closed the screen and set it aside, flopping face first into the couch cushions. His mind ached. He closed his eyelids and behind them, he saw white. He awaited an explosion, to see the stars come forth, to see the universe born, again and again. He waited to feel the pressure. The sensation of presence.

He saw, for a moment, orange. But Ben understood that this was wrong. He could hear his Omnitrix beeping. Ben slid to his side, propping his arm up, activating his communicator.

"Hey, Kai." He spoke, his tone languid and dry. Her voice came pouring through, excited and alive. Talking about her latest discovery, the scientific advancements to be made, how this potentially could unlock the secrets of how the universe came to be. Ben gave a small smile, and closed his eyes.

He waited to see white.


End file.
